The Not So Stories
by chibiness87
Summary: He had no-one to blame but himself. A WEDGES fic! Spoilers through S8


**The Not So Stories** by **Chibiness87  
Pairing:** Wendy/Hodges**  
Length:**2400**  
Spoilers:** 7.20 Lab Rats, 8.05 Chick Chop Flick Shop, 8.09 You Kill Me, 8.16 Two and a Half Deaths**  
Disclaimer:** If they were mine, season 8 would have ended differently!

**Summary:** He had no-one to blame but himself.

**A/N: **Because the ending of the finale made me cry, and then have a quite a few shots of scotch to stop shaking, I wrote Wedges fluff… what can I say? It's my guilty pleasure ship! As always, thanks to **mingsmommy** for giving me this a read over.

* * *

**1. The not so lucky day.**

It had been my lucky day. Everything had been going, so, so well. And then, in the space of about 30 seconds, my lucky day hadn't seemed so lucky. There was something to be said for that woman on a rampage; that was for damned sure. If it wasn't me on the receiving end I would have liked the view quite a bit; god, did she look hot when she was mad.

It had all started with a dollar, sitting there so innocently on the sidewalk. A quick glance around showed no-one laying claim, and so I picked it up. _This_, I thought,_ would be a lucky day_. After all, if a penny could bring good luck from being picked up, a dollar must have a hundred times the potency, right?

The effects had seemed to be almost instantaneous. Going to enter the crime lab, I noticed a fine looking woman. And, for once, when I took a second look (and trust me, you would have done the same), she was taking her own second glance. And it was a nice feeling, right there in that second. I felt like I was actually desired, not all that common for me.

The dollar continued to show its charm when I received three packs of chips for the price of one from the vending machine in the hall. See, that thing has always been temperamental, and is more likely to eat your money than give you want you want. So, for it to not only work, but then give away free food, well, who am I to complain?

While a test was running, I checked my mail. I wouldn't usually do so on company time, but well, there was nothing else pending, and it only took a second. Didn't hurt anyone. And my lucky day continued when I saw that good-for-nothing guy up in San Francisco I had been in a bidding war with all month had finally given up, and as I stood there _my_ game was being shipped down to me. It was about time he gave up... and not just because I wouldn't have been able to bid much higher.

And then I heard the miniatures, the bane of Gil's existence, were free. Well, not explicitly free, but in the closest manner of speaking possible to me. I knew then I wanted to help him out, wanted to try to get some of the weight off his tense shoulders. And so I enlisted the help of the other techs in the lab… all but Wendy. See, the thing about Simms is she takes over. A lot. And if she found out I was doing this without prior permission, well, she would have my hide.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present exhibit A: Wendy having my hide. "Oh my GOD I cannot believe you. I cannot believe that for a moment there I actually thought…"

There was a faint blush staining those well defined cheeks, but I wasn't sure if it was from anger, or something else. "Thought what?" For some reason, I had to ask. The way she looked right then, tall, imposing, and oh-my-god hot, the words just slipped out.

"Nothing. What on God's green Earth possessed you to do this?"

And I explained. I told her about my lucky day, how the stars seemed to have aligned, how, for once, things in my life were _good_. And then she just looked at me, and said, "Oh come on, if Gil Grissom were here, he'd slap your face." And then she was gone, stalking away from me, with heels on that made her legs seem like they were a mile long.

And suddenly, my lucky day didn't seem quite so lucky.

* * *

**2. The not so helpful comment.**

It was, I thought much later, probably not the best thing I could have said. Not really. In fact, it was probably one of the worst things I could have come up with. And if my mouth had been in any way connected to my brain, at least the part not currently concentrating on just how low cut Wendy's top was in that clip, the words would definitely have been different. Probably definitely would have been different.

But, alas, the comment was made.

It probably didn't help matters much there was an audience to the, possibly sexist, I acknowledged, comment. If ever there was a time for alien abductions, going out of phase and possibly sinking through the floor, hell I'd take spontaneous human combustion at that point, then was the time. But apparently science fiction was still that, and I was still there, alive and visible.

Damn it all to hell.

This thought process took about the time for Wendy to turn those daggers of eyes in my direction, and for me to realize I had gone and said the words out loud. My brain suddenly realized just how much danger I was in, and reattached itself to my mouth to try to dig my way out of this nice big crater the words, "But perfect" had managed to create. "-Ly adequate. Better, in fact."

Or not.

It had only been natural for me at that point to try to find some ally in the room. Unfortunately, everyone else was female, or Henry, and they all wore the same expression on their faces (well, not Henry, he was too busy rewinding the clip, apparently intending to watch it again). So now I had to defend myself against three women with the expression of, "You are so _busted_" on their faces.

But I'm not known for my persistence for nothing. I turned to Sara, somehow thinking the significant other of my boss may at least try to help me out a little. But then she bailed on me. What was it with the female of the species binding together? Guys would turn on each other faster than a pack of wolves under the right circumstances.

The others watched her leave, and then Henry, true to form, pointed to the screen, and suggested re-watching the clip. He was ignored, and then both him and Newbie left, leaving me to face the wrath of one seriously pissed off DNA tech. Somehow, it was a face I was becoming all too familiar with. For some reason, I have developed a serious case of foot-in-mouth syndrome whenever she's around me.

If I wasn't so terrified by the thought, I'd probably admit to myself it was due to being attracted to her. But that way lay panic and madness, and so I decided to resort to the true and tried method of denial… so far it seemed to at least keep me sane. Unfortunately, it also led to the aforementioned foot-in-mouth syndrome.

I managed to keep my gaze locked on her, despite the fire in her eyes, and everything in me yelling at me for being a crazy fool. She must have seen something on my face she could understand, for the next thing I knew she had sighed, and then had retreated back to her lab, leaving me sitting there alone. Yet, somehow I felt I had just had my ass handed back to me.

Both my heart and my head took that moment to inform me I was a complete and utter idiot. And I had to agree.

* * *

**3. The not so brilliant plan.**

I hadn't thought things through. Wasn't that something Gil had been saying about criminals for years? Not that I saw myself as a criminal; certainly there was nothing illegal had occurred… at least not that I could see. Gil always said people planned up to an event, rarely on what to do after it. And I fell into the trap. I knew I wanted help, but I had never considered them finding the cassette recorder. And now Wendy was angry at me. Again. And I have no-one to blame but myself.

As I sat there in the locker room, all I could think of was how much I had messed up. The door opened, and of course it just _had_ to be Simms who had found me. Not that I was overly surprised; after all, she was the one I'd managed to get helping me out in the first place. And then things went and got a whole lot worse.

She found the game. And the way she acted about it made me feel I hadn't completely screwed up. I actually felt good, for a long moment. Right up until she found the pieces shaped into lab rats to go with the game. For some completely unknown reason, when it had come to picking qualities for 'her' piece, the 12 year old boy that lived in my brain decided to be vindictive.

And instead of mentioning some of her many, many brilliant, and even attractive, qualities, I decided to make Mindy Bimms clumsy yet buxom. Calling her clumsy was bad enough, but I knew from her expression it was the second quality that had hurt her the most. Especially after trying (and admittedly failing) at defending the size of her chest a little over a month ago.

She proceeded to chew me out, and this time I sat and took it, knowing I at least deserved some of the things she was throwing at me. Unfortunately, the 12 year old boy who had managed to make a bad situation much worse decided to poke his head up again when she said, "You are the dumbest smart man I know," and took over. I thought myself to be a bit of ass right then, so her comment took me completely by surprise.

Enter foot-in-mouth syndrome.

I _should _have let it go. I _should_ have thanked her demurely, be glad my ass was still mostly intact, picked up the game and left. I _should_ have done any number of things, none of which I did. What _should not_ have done, under any circumstance, was what I did. "You think I'm smart?"

I watched as she rolled her eyes, and then stalked away, the 12 year old boy immensely enjoying the view of her hips as she stalked down the hall in those heels.

It was time to admit, if only to myself, alone there in the locker room, Wendy Simms was one fine looking woman. A woman I am fairly attracted to. And who, most likely, did not feel the same way about me.

And I have no-one to blame but myself.

* * *

**4. The not so terrible day.**

I hadn't planned an asking Wendy out over jars of my failed attempts of deploying a tampon to suck up water. In fact, of all the things I could have been given to work out, that was way up there with the most embarrassing. But then she had shown up, and had taught me how to work the applicator (in my defense, I'm a guy… it's not like I have a pressing need to know how the damn things work). And then she had teased me about it, and through some utter miracle I didn't put my foot in my mouth.

Instead of blurting out something that would have pissed her off at me faster than you could say faux pas, I had simply smiled at her, and thanked her for her input. No snarkiness, no hurtful comment, no nothing. Of course, that calm lasted all of 30 seconds.

My brain finally became unattached from my mouth, and so my mouth decided to ask her to dinner. Just the two of us. And then another miracle occurred, because instead of slapping my face and calling me a pig, she smiled and said yes.

It was at that point I felt I must have died and gone to heaven, and this was my afterlife. I do not speak to Wendy. I do not thank her for her help, and I sure as hell never ask her out. Half-assed comments, along with a seemingly permanent foot-in-mouth syndrome, dictated most, if not all, of our previous interactions.

In fact, I was fairly sure after the board game incident she hated my guts. Her acceptance of my dinner invitation therefore caught me completely by surprise; not least because I had never had the intention of saying the words aloud. Especially to her (I was studiously ignoring the 12 year old boy who was somehow in charge of my heart yelling "Liar!" at me. Repeatedly.).

Blinking, I gave myself a slight pinch, trying to convince myself I was actually there, and not dead, or experiencing the best dream of my life. Well, best dream except for the tampons still sitting on the bench, although without them I wouldn't be in this situation right now anyway. Unfortunately for me, Wendy saw the pinch.

"Want to wake up?" she asked, an indeterminable look on her face, like she wasn't sure what exactly I wanted. But I was already shaking my head at her question. With a raised eyebrow, she asked, "So what was with the pinch?"

"I wanted to make sure I was here," I confessed, unable to look straight at her right then. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her smile, and then she leant over slightly to get a little closer. Everything faded then; the case, the lab, the people who could walk by at any moment and see the personal space invasion. The only thing I could concentrate on was her; her closeness, her breath next to my ear, her sensual voice as she whispered, "Good," in my ear. And then the softness of her lips on my cheek for a second before she moved away.

She paused in the doorway of my lab, glancing over her shoulder at me. "Call me later. We'll discuss dinner." She winked, and then she was gone, and I was left in the middle of my lab with the goofiest grin on my face possible. My hand fell to my pocket, withdrawing the penny I had placed there when I found it earlier in the day.

"See a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck," I muttered to myself, before slipping it back into my pocket.

_This_, I thought,_ was going to be a lucky day_.

* * *

End.


End file.
